Atlantis Revisited
by AmericanPatrol
Summary: The last time I watched Atlantis, I couldn't help but think about how the story would be different if there were a female character from the beginning. Enter Eleanor Cooper! She's the granddaughter of Mr. Whitmore (Milo's investor) and joins Milo and the gang on their quest to find Atlantis. A retelling of the movie, "Atlantis: The Lost Empire" with an OC.
1. Chapter 1

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. First off, I'd like to thank this board for taking the time to hear my proposal."

Although Milo Thatch had probably practiced his presentation for the Smithsonian Board of Directors 1,000 times, he was still a little nervous. This was, after all, the first time he had presented for an audience.

He had to convince to board to fund a trip - a quest, really - to find the lost city of Atlantis. The lifelong dream of Milo's grandfather, Thaddeus Thatch, was to find Atlantis. It was all Milo heard growing up. Now the dream was as much his as it had been his grandfather's.

Before he could find Atlantis, he'd need to find the Shepherd's Journal. It was, as his grandfather told him, a first-hand account of the whereabouts of Atlantis. If he had the journal, he'd be able to lead the trip to Atlantis.

"I plotted the route that will take myself and a crew to the southern coast of Iceland to retrieve the journal."

As he pointed to the map, his clock chimed 4 times. He stopped the presentation and caught his breath. Half an hour to the presentation.

"How was it? Did I rush?" he asked.

Eleanor Cooper, his friend and fellow Atlantis enthusiast sat in front of him in an otherwise empty seating arrangement. She wore a bowler cap in order to look more like Mr. Harcourt of the board.

"No, it was perfect. They'd be fools not to fund this," she said, removing the cap.

_Whosh_!

A message came through the tube. Milo unfolded it and read the note aloud.

"Dear Mr. Thatch, this is to inform you that your meeting today has been moved up from 4:30 P.M to 3:30 P.M."

Eleanor stood up and took the note from Milo's hands.

"What? But it's just after 4…"

_Whoosh!_

Down came another note. Too stunned to grab it, Milo looked at his map of Iceland. Eleanor took the second note and read it.

"Dear Mr. Thatch, due to your absence…the board has voted to reject your proposal!"

At the word "reject," Milo snapped to action. He gathered his charts hastily.

"They can't do this to me!" he screamed and ran toward the door. Eleanor collected the notes and followed quickly.

Milo's legs were longer than Eleanor's and, besides, he didn't have to worry about a long skirt. She struggled to keep the loose notes in her arms while sweeping her skirt away from her feet. Milo rounded a corner just as she dropped the section of the presentation about the Iceland exploration.

"Golly, Eleanor," she chided herself. "Can't you do anything right?"

As she gathered the notes, a family taking a tour asked her about one of the paintings on the wall. Eleanor was always eager to help guests - it wasn't often that she had the opportunity to do it. Mr. Harcourt frequently reminded her that her job was to sit and look pretty at the front desk. In fact, he had told her just this morning that she couldn't possibly know what she was talking about, so she should just keep quiet.

_Oh, if only I had the courage to stand up to that bully_, she'd said to herself. But now, as she lead a mini tour around the hall of paintings, she felt a sense of satisfaction.

Eleanor finally met up with Milo at closing time. She was surprised to find him dripping wet.

"What happened to you?" she asked. "Decide to take a swim?"

"Hah," he grumbled. "It's a long story."

Milo walked past her and toward the boiler room, taking the notes from her arms and thanking her as he did.

"I've got time," she suggested. She had to look down to keep from slipping in the puddles quickly forming at Milo's feet.

"I don't," he replied. "I have to pack my things. I resigned."

"What?!"

But she didn't get an answer. Milo shut the door to the boiler room and bolted it behind him. She knocked gently, but when she got no reply, she gave up and left. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that she heard weeping on the other side of the door.


	2. Chapter 2

After talking to Mr. Gibson - another member of the board - Eleanor found out that the board had no intention of accepting Milo's proposal. They told him that Atlantis didn't exist and that he was just wasting his time, just like Thaddeus Thatch. That must have struck a nerve with Milo. After all, he idolized his grandfather for following his dreams all his life.

Eleanor looked at the locket around her neck that her own grandfather had given her for her 16th birthday. In it was a picture of the two of them, smiling. She knew that carrying on her grandfather's dream was important, just as it was for Milo and Thaddeus.

_Milo can't give up just yet,_ she thought as she raced home.

"I'm home. Fluffy?"

Milo set his bags down and called for his cat. Fluff was a coward when it came to thunder, so he was prepared for a hunt to find her. What he didn't expect to find was a well-dressed woman sitting in his chair.

"Milo James Thatch?" she asked in a smooth, low voice.

Milo gulped. The woman obviously knew him, although he had never seen her before in his life.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?"

She rolled her eyes and rose to look out the window.

"I came down the chimney. Ho ho ho."

He didn't laugh. Although she was the stranger in his house, the woman seemed oddly comfortable. She didn't threaten him or appear to have stolen anything, so Milo felt that he didn't need to call for help…yet.

"My name is Helga Sinclair. I'm acting on behalf of my employer who has a most intriguing proposition for you. Are you interested?"

_Interested?_ Milo thought. _I'm fascinated! What kind of employer sends a strange woman into their potential worker's house to tell them about the job? _

"Your…your, your employer? Who is your employer?"

"The tea is ready, Miss Cooper!" called Anna. "Shall I bring it to you?"

Eleanor set her brush down and swept her hair up into a bun as she called back to the maid.

"There's no need, Anna. I'll come and get it."

"Very good, ma'am."

After a once over in the mirror, Eleanor deemed herself ready to go downstairs. Although she was not a vain girl, she wanted to look her best whenever company was around. It was one of the few habits her mother had passed down to her. That, of course, was before American boarding school and illness took over the family…

"You look just like your mother, Ellie."

Eleanor's grandfather leaned in the doorway. She turned and smiled at him. He grinned back at her, and then looked at the clock on her mantle.

"Oops! My client will be here any time now," he said with a wink.

Eleanor loved her grandfather dearly. It was hard to believe that she didn't know him at all when she came to America, considering that they were now in such close confidence. He, admittedly, was quirky, but she blamed that on a combination of his wealth and loneliness.

_No matter, _she thought, dismissing any dwellings on the eccentricity of her grandfather. _He's a good businessman and that's all that matters._

Anna, the family maid suddenly appeared in the doorway. She bowed hastily.

"Good heavens, Anna! What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's only that…well…"

The girl looked at her feet and struggled to find words. Eleanor, as always, was patient.

"The gentleman has arrived."

Ms. Sinclair led Milo to an extravagant mansion. By this time, the sun was completely set and the rain had not stopped in hours. It was all becoming a bit ominous.

"How did you say your employer found me?" he asked timidly.

"I didn't."

Ms. Sinclair then held the door open for Milo, ushering him quickly into the foyer.

"This way, please. And don't drip on the Caravaggio."

Milo couldn't believe his eyes. He knew that he'd never again see a house as grand as this one. A suit of armor to his left caught his eye. He wandered over to it, looking for a description plate.

"Step lively," Ms. Sinclair snapped. "Mr. Whitmore does not like to be kept waiting."

She pushed aside a velvet curtain to reveal an elevator cage.

_Of course there is an elevator in this house,_ Milo laughed to himself.

As the door of the elevator closed, Ms. Sinclair turned to face him.

"You will address him as 'Mr. Whitmore' or 'Sir.' You will stand unless asked to be seated. Keep your sentences short and to the point. Are we clear?"

Milo was speechless.

"And relax. He doesn't bite…often."


	3. Chapter 3

Ms. Sinclair pushed Milo out of the elevator and shut the door swiftly behind him. Alarmed, he turned around and caught sight of her gently waving at him before she disappeared into the floor. Milo had never felt more alone.

The room he had been left in was tall and dark. A fish tank of some sort spanned almost an entire wall. Opposite the tank was a fireplace with a massive painting above it. It depicted two men, shanking hands. One of the men in the painting bore a striking resemblance to Milo's grandfather.

"Grandpa?" he said aloud, as though the painting should respond to him.

"Finest explorer I ever met," answered a voice from the darkness.

Milo jumped and searched for the source of the voice. A small man with tufts of white hair sat cross-legged on a mat by the fireplace. He introduced himself as Preston Whitmore while doing various yoga poses.

"Did you really know my grandfather?" Milo asked. He winced as Mr. Whitmore cracked his toes.

"Oh, yeah. Met old Thaddeus back in Georgetown. Class of '66. We stayed close friends 'til the end of his days."

Milo felt more at ease since the man, although strange, knew his grandfather. He glanced up at the painting again and smiled.

"Thatch was crazy as a fruit bat, he was. He spoke of you often," continued Mr. Whitmore.

"Funny. He…he never mentioned you."

"Oh, he wouldn't," Mr. Whitmore laughed, turning over and lifting himself into a handstand. His robe flopped down over his face. "He knew how much I liked my privacy. I keep a low profile-"

"Mr. Whitmore, should I be wondering why I'm here?" Milo interrupted. The since of peace he'd felt moments before was quickly melting into frustration.

"Look on that table," Mr. Whitmore said. He climbed off his mat and walked behind a changing screen.

On the small table next to Mr. Whitmore's yoga mat was a large rectangular parcel. It was addressed to Milo. He gasped quietly and picket it up.

"It's…it's from my grandfather."

"He brought that package to me years ago. He said if anything were to happen to him, I should give it to you when you were ready," said Mr. Whitmore. He poked his head out from behind the screen and added "whatever that means."

Nervous, Milo unwrapped the parcel. Inside, he found a book with a swirled insignia on the top. He could hardly breathe.

"It can't be," Milo said, looking at the painting of his grandfather once more. "It's the Shepherd's Journal."

Eleanor positioned herself behind the fish tank. She was trying to decide when to make an appearance. This evening was not about her, but she knew that as soon as she revealed herself, the dynamics would change.

_Be gentle, Grandpa_, she thought desperately. _Don't scare him away._

She listened to the conversation through the glass, only catching a few words.

"…a fake."

"My grandfather would have known…I will stake everything…"

Eleanor rolled her eyes. This hiding place would not work. She stepped around the fish tank and settled herself behind a fern in a tall pot. She felt as though she were a little girl again, playing hide-and-seek with her grandfather.

"I'll get funding. I mean, I'll…the museum!" Milo stuttered. She could tell that he was once again fueled by the passion for Atlantis that he'd had earlier that day.

"They'll never believe you," Grandpa said calmly. She could see his smirk through the leaves.

Milo only faltered for a minute.

"I'll show them. I will make them believe!"

"Like you did today…"

"Yes! Well, no. How did you…" Milo stopped. "How did you know about that?"

Eleanor held her breath. She could hardly hear over the blood rushing to her ears.

"Your grandfather wanted me to give you that package when you were ready," Grandpa started. He raised out of the chair and looked into the fish tank. "How would I know when you were ready if I didn't keep an eye on you?"

"You mean…you mean you've been spying on me?"

That was her cue. Eleanor rose and stepped out from behind the fern. Milo was so angry, though, that he didn't even see her.

"No, Milo," she said hesitantly. "_I've _been spying on you."


	4. Chapter 4

Milo and Mr. Whitmore stopped and turned their eyes to Eleanor. She braced herself for what Milo would inevitably say.

"Eleanor! What is going on here?" He flung his arms in the air in exasperation. "Someone, please explain!"

Eleanor looked to her grandfather for prompting. To her surprise, he was looking expectantly at her.

"Well…" she started, faltering as she looked at Milo. "I…I happened to meet you at the Smithsonian and I thought your name sounded familiar. When I told my grandfather," she gestured to Mr. Whitmore. "He told me everything he just told you. I became Grandpa's eyes and ears at the Smithsonian. I just reported your progress on Atlantis until, today, he said that you were ready."

"Almost ready," Mr. Whitmore corrected.

Milo and Eleanor were both surprised.

I'm sorry, Milo, but I can't let you go with that journal until you can tell me just how you're going to get to Atlantis. And don't say the museum because we already established that they'd never give you the funds."

Eleanor shot a dirty look at her grandfather, but he wasn't paying her any attention. He smiled smugly at Milo.

"Forget about them!" Milo exclaimed. "I will find Atlantis on my own. I mean, if I have to rent a rowboat…"

"Congratulations, Milo," interrupted Mr. Whitmore. "That is exactly what I wanted to hear. But forget the rowboat, son. We'll travel in style."

He leaned forward and pressed a button on the table. A trapdoor opened and a miniature submarine rose out of it. The detail on the craft was incredible.

"Why?" Milo asked gently, picking up a model balloon from the side of the sub.

Mr. Whitmore picked up a stack of papers and addressed Milo with a tinge of nostalgia. "For years your granddad bent my ear with stories about that old book," he began. Eleanor had heard the story a thousand times before. Her eyes and attention became focused on the papers in her grandfather's hands.

_Don't look through them!_ She urged him silently.

As she hoped, Mr. Whitmore did not look through the papers. In fact, he flipped through them quickly and set them back down on the table. Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your grandpa was a great man. You probably don't realize how great," said her grandfather. He had moved in front of the fireplace and was looking at the picture of himself with Thaddeus. He shook his head slightly before turning his gaze to the flames before him.

"If I could bring back just one shred of proof, that'd be enough for me. Ah, Thatch," he whispered sadly. Suddenly, he turned around, bright-eyed. "What are we standing around for? We've got work to do!"

_Showtime_, Eleanor thought grimly.

"You know, in order to do what you're proposing, you're going to need a crew!" Milo exclaimed. He began to count on his fingers. "You'll need engineers and…and geologists…"

"Got 'em all," Mr. Whitmore assured him. "The best of the best."

Returning to his stack of papers, Mr. Whitmore spread the documents out before Milo. Each was a typed resume with a portrait paper clipped to the corner.

"Gaetan Moliere, Vincenzo Santorini, Audrey Ramirez," he began, pointing to each portrait in the line up. When he got to the picture of a doctor, his voice trailed off.

"What?" Milo asked, but Eleanor already knew.

Mr. Whitmore picked up a document that had been partially covered by Helga Sinclair's resume. On it was a portrait of Eleanor herself.

"You're on the crew?" asked Milo excitedly.

"Of course," she replied with all the confidence as she could muster. It wasn't much.

"Atlantis is waiting. What do you say?" Mr. Whitmore asked Milo, though his eyes did not leave Eleanor. His voice had lost its jolly tone and was now rigid.

"I'm your man, Mr. Whitmore. You will not regret this!" he tottered happily out of the room.

"I hope not," Mr. Whitmore mumbled toward Eleanor. "You and I are talking about this. Now."

"I'm going."


	5. Chapter 5

Eleanor knew that her grandfather would not back down, but she had no intention of doing so herself. She locked eyes with him firmly. He broke first and his expression softened as he turned away.

"What are you doing," he sighed. He was exhausted; there was no question in his voice.

"I nominated myself for the expedition."

"I see."

Eleanor braced herself and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Look. I won't be so naïve as to say that I am as passionate about Atlantis as Milo, but it holds a very special place in my heart. I've been spending months in the Smithsonian with him, Grandpa, and I've learned so much. It makes me curious! I've never felt so passionately about learning before! Don't you understand? I want to find it. I _need_ to find it."

Mr. Whitmore shook his head and spoke with a steady voice.

"This trip is long, Eleanor," he began solemnly. "You won't have the luxuries that you have at home. The vessel will be crowded. There will be no solitude."

"You didn't say all this to Milo," she challenged.

"It's different."

"No it isn't. We'd be going on the same trip."

"I don't care about Milo!"

The silence that followed Mr. Whitmore's exclamation was long. Eleanor couldn't believe that he would say such a thing.

"This trip was never about Milo. I don't mean to say that I don't wish him well, it's just that…this is for Thaddeus," Mr. Whitmore exclaimed. He seemed embarrassed now that he'd spoken.

Now it was Eleanor's turn to soften. Her grandfather had never been so honest with her before. Obviously, he was concerned about her safety above anything else, but she needed him to let her go.

"I'll take care of Milo and he'll take care of me, Grandpa," soothed Eleanor. "You don't have anything to worry about. And Helga is going, isn't she?"

Mr. Whitmore smiled weakly.

"Yes. She is going too."

"Grandpa, you may be putting this all together for Thaddeus, but I can go for the both of us. Isn't belief and a sense of adventure what he would have wanted?"

"You're persuasive, my dear," Mr. Whitmore admitted. "But I'll still worry about you."

"Don't," she replied, taking his hands. "You chose these people, so I know I'm in good hands."

Mr. Whitmore took Eleanor's face in his hands and kissed the top of her head. She hugged him and closed her eyes. He smelled like pepper, as usual, but she wanted to burn the scent into her memory. As much as she didn't want to think about it, this could be the last time she saw her grandfather.

"You'll leave first thing in the morning, my dear," he said after a long pause. "Best get some sleep."

Eleanor couldn't say anything. Her mind swam with excitement about the trip combined with sorrow for leaving her grandfather alone in this huge house.

"Can I look at the crew members?" she asked to change the subject. Mr. Whitmore nodded and handed her the files.

She scanned the photos quickly. Her stomach sank as she looked at the faces of the strangers. Was it really such a good idea to take this trip among total strangers, away from the comforts of home?

_Helga and Milo will be there, _she told herself. _There's nothing to worry about_.

There would be a few other women on board, which made her feel better. She didn't have a lot of opportunities to socialize, so she was excited about the prospect of making new friends with fellow adventurers. She was surprised to see a young Spanish girl among the crew. She didn't know that girls could work as mechanics, but Audrey's profile indicated that she was an experienced and talented one.

"Stay safe, my dear."

Eleanor turned abruptly and scurried off to her room before she lost control of her emotions. Tomorrow! Tomorrow, she would be on her way to the lost city of Atlantis!


	6. Chapter 6

Mr. Whitmore insisted on wearing a sailor suit even though he wasn't going anywhere. Eleanor walked alongside him as he inspected the supplies for the trip. He carried his cane with him and periodically rapped the side of the crates, leaning forward to listen to the resonance.

"What are you listening for, exactly?" Eleanor asked after a few crates.

"I…I'm not sure!" He admitted. His eyes widened and he shrugged at her. Eleanor was still laughing when Milo walked up to them.

"Good morning," he said jovially. "Are you ready?"

Eleanor nodded heartily.

"I just threw up over the deck, but…" Milo began. He paused and looked beyond Eleanor and her grandfather. She turned to see a tall, distinguished man approaching them.

"Kids, this is who we've been waiting for," Mr. Whitmore said proudly. "I want you to meet Commander Rourke. He led the Iceland team that brought the journal back"

Rourke took Eleanor's hand and kissed it gently before heartily shaking Milo's.

"Pleasure to meet the grandson of old Thaddeus," he greeted. Rourke was certainly impressive.

"Attention, all personnel. Launch will commence in 15 minutes," blared a voice from the speakers around the ship.

"My, my," wondered Mr. Whitmore. "Where has the time gone?"

Eleanor suddenly felt sick. How could she be so selfish and leave her beloved grandfather behind? She'd have to tell him that she couldn't go after all. Something to keep her with him.

As she schemed, Milo touched her arm. She snapped out of her thoughts.

"Are you ok? We need to get moving."

Mr. Whitmore took Eleanor in his arms and squeezed her close. She resisted tears, but could hear the sharp inhales of her grandfather as his emotions got the better of him.

"Take care, darling," he whispered.

"You too," she replied weakly.

Milo shouldered Eleanor's bag and motioned for her to follow. She reluctantly parted from her grandfather, but continued to wave to him as she walked toward their designated door.

"Are you going to be ok?" Milo asked.

Eleanor nodded. _This is for both of us_, she thought. _Me and grandfather_.

There was lots of commotion aboard the sub as they prepared to dive. Milo and Eleanor parked themselves in a little coffee room out of the way of the officers and workers. They alternated between eyeing sub with awe and grinning at each other. Yesterday, they had dreamed of finding the Shepherd's Journal and now they were on their way to Atlantis itself.

"Dive! Dive!"

Eleanor looked up to the intercom and smiled.

_Is this what adventure feels like?_


	7. Chapter 7

Milo and Eleanor parted ways when they reached the living quarters. After promising to sit together at dinner and grinning at their good fortune, the two entered their rooms. Eleanor was surprised to find two sets of bunks in her cabin. She had believed that she would have a room all to herself. Her luggage was already in her room, laid out on the lower bunk on the right. A Chinese girl who appeared to be around Eleanor's age sat on the bunk across from her. She wore breeches and a loose blouse. The dress seemed strange for a woman, but Eleanor ignored it.

"Hello!" Eleanor exclaimed, unsure if the girl spoke English. In her limited circles, she had little experience with people who weren't part of the upper class. She didn't know any elites who weren't caucasian like herself.

"Hello," the girl returned warmly. "I'm Sylvia. Linguistics."

Suddenly, Eleanor was flustered. Not only was the girl fluent in English, but she was a linguist! Was Eleanor supposed to have a title too?

"Oh, I'm Eleanor. Uh, Recruitment…of sorts."

"You're the rich girl, right?"

The voice came from the bunk above Eleanor's. She turned to see a Hispanic teenage girl, arms crossed, glaring at her.

"I…yes."

"Audrey," Sylvia whined.

Audrey climbed off the bunk without taking her eyes off of Eleanor. Though she wasn't very tall, Audrey already had an intimidating presence. She eyed Eleanor's outfit and motioned to her suitcase with her thumb.

"I hope you packed better exploring clothes than what you've got on." Audrey herself was wearing baggy blue overalls and a newsboy cap.

Embarrassed, Eleanor shook her head and turned her attention her bunk. The bed was unmade, but the blankets were folded and sitting on top. She lowered her bag underneath the bunk and began gently unfolding the first sheet.

Sylvia began chiding Audrey in a different language, so Eleanor tuned them out. She didn't want to be resented by them for her money. Sylvia seemed nice enough, but Audrey would be a tough person to room with if her attitude kept up.

"Will Milo Thatch please report to the bridge?"

Startled, but slightly relieved, Eleanor abandoned her bed making and stepped out of her room. Milo was backing out of his room, handing someone two giant beakers. He smiled at her, but he looked flustered.

"What was that?" Eleanor asked, matching his quick pace.

"Roommates," he replied shortly. "How are yours, by the way?"

Eleanor shrugged. "About the same as yours, I'd wager. One of them doesn't seem to like me much."

"Mine are a little too…familiar," he said with a grimace.

They met up with Helga Sinclair at the bridge. She wore practical clothes, much like Audrey. Eleanor scolded herself for being so foolish with her clothing.

"Welcome to the bridge, Mr. Thatch. Ms. Cooper."

A large group of sub workers sat before them.

"Ok, everybody," Helga announced. "I want you to give Mr. Thatch your undivided attention."

She turned to Milo and lowered her voice.

"They're all yours."


	8. Chapter 8

While Milo set up the projector screen, Eleanor found a seat. The workers all seemed agitated, as though they all had better things to do than watch a presentation.

_They probably do have something better to do,_ thought Eleanor. She looked around subtly at the unamused faces around her. They were all gazing at Milo with varying levels of contempt.

Sylvia and Audrey climbed the staircase to the presenting floor and leaned against the rail, waiting. Sylvia looked eager with her notepad out, but Audrey appeared disinterested.

"How about some slides?" Milo asked after he finished setting up. He walked over to the projector and waited for a response from his audience. Apart from Audrey popping her gum, he didn't get one.

"The first slide is a depiction of a creature so frightening, the sailors were said to be driven mad by the mere sight of it!" Milo announced. He inserted his first slide into the machine with gusto. The image that appeared on the screen was less inspired.

The picture was of Milo himself wearing a swimsuit and flippers, complete with a dinosaur floatation device around his waist. His cat, Fluffy, was behind him reaching eagerly for the goldfish hooked on his rod. Eleanor recognized the picture as her own handiwork. She had taken it a few months before when she and Milo had made an afternoon trip to the coast.

"Geez, I used to take lunch money from guys like this," Eleanor heard Audrey mutter to the Italian man next to her. He nodded and rolled his eyes.

Milo frantically pulled the slide out and searched the other slides in his hands. He couldn't seem to find the one he was looking for. As the giggle built, Eleanor felt herself reddening on Milo's behalf. Finally, he pulled a different slide and put it in the projector.

"Ok, _this_ is an illustration of the Leviathan: the creature guarding the entrance to Atlantis."

The Italian man interrupted.

"With something like that, I would have white wine, I think."

The others laughed again, but Milo was prepared.

"It's a mythical sea serpent. He's described in the Book of Job. The Bible says, 'Out of his mouth go burning lights…sparks of fire shoot out.'"

"So," Rourke cut in. "We find this masterpiece. Then what?"

"When do we dig?!"

A small, round man with some sort of goggles on sprung out of the crowd excitedly. Eleanor recognized him as the geologist from the crew files: Moliere.

"Actually, we don't have to dig," Milo replied. He turned off the projector and pulled a piece of charcoal out of his pocket. He began to draw a picture on the projector screen.

"You see, according to the journal, the path to Atlantis will take us down a tunnel and we'll come up a curve into an air pocket. Kind of like the grease trap in your sink." He stepped away from his drawing proudly.

"Cartographer, linguist, plumber," Helga said to Rourke. "Hard to believe he's still single."

Eleanor reddened again.

"Captain, you'd better see this," called the helmsman. Rourke dismissed the workers and approached the wheel. Helga and Milo followed. Eleanor remained on the presenting floor, but watched them carefully.

"Give me exterior lights."

Floodlights lit the sea floor in front of them. They were able to see through the huge panoramic windows around the front of the vessel. Even Eleanor had a good view.

"Look at that," Helga marveled. The ground outside looked like a ship graveyard.

"There are ships here from every era," mused Milo. Sure enough, the graveyard seemed to double as a museum for marine crafts.

"I wonder if the journal says anything about this."

Milo stepped away from the wheel and picked up the journal. He wrinkled his nose and squinted at the page.

"Is it in Atlantian?" Eleanor asked, approaching. At the word 'Atlantian,' Sylvia, who was still nearby, perked up and walked over to them.

"Do you mind if I listen? I haven't quite perfected the Atlantian accent."

"Neither have I," Milo admitted. He cleared his throat. "Predeshtem lout nog-"

"Nug," corrected Sylvia. She pointed at one of the characters on the page.

"_Nug_ nah geb," Milo affirmed. "Enter the lair of the Leviathan. There you will find the path to the gateway."

Sylvia looked contemplative and nodded.

"We must be getting close," she said.

"Commander?" called a woman from the intercom. The voice was flat and gravelly. "Commander?"

"Yes, Mrs. Packard," Rourke answered. "What is it?"

"I'm picking up something on the hydrophone I think you should hear."


	9. Chapter 9

"Put it on speakers," Rourke said with a sigh.

A low, hollow groan filled the room instantly. Rourke's face quickly shifted from annoyance to concern. He and Helga rushed back to Mrs. Packard's station.

"What _is_ that?" asked Sylvia.

Milo shrugged and walked down the stairs to the front of the sub. He was now directly in front of the panoramic window. With a hand to the glass, he scanned the view of the ocean.

"I don't see anything," he called back to Sylvia and Eleanor.

The sound grew louder before suddenly ceasing. Eleanor sighed with relief and her eyes met Milo's. He smiled nervously, shaking his head at the whole thing.

Rourke walked toward the group once again calling orders.

"Helmsman! Bring us about. Tighten our search pattern and slow us to…"

As he spoke, the sub lurched with a loud crash. Instantly, the alarm bells blared, filling the space as the mysterious sound had moments before.

"Battle stations!" Helga commanded. The whole crew scattered.

Eleanor, not having a battle station, rushed over to the top of the stairs. She saw Milo get thrown against the glass in the crash. He struggled to regain his footing. Behind him, the ocean went black. Eleanor couldn't focus her eyes on what was blocking the window. A large, orange circle appeared in the center of the view and grew slowly.

"Jiminy Christmas!" Milo exclaimed. "It's a machine!"

He scrambled to his feet and rushed to meet Eleanor at the stairs.

"All hands, abandon ship," droned Mrs. Packard over the speaker.

Eleanor looked around frantically for help. She had no idea where to find an escape and Milo didn't look any more confident. Helga peaked her head back into the bridge room at that moment and beckoned with a jerk of her hand

"Move it, people! Sometime today would be nice!"

Milo and Eleanor followed her to a small escape pod. The sat down and buckled in.

"Where to, Mr. Thatch?" Rourke asked as soon as Milo was situated.

"We're looking for a big crevice of some kind…" he said as he scanned the Shepherd's Journal.

"Look!" Eleanor screamed. "There's one!"

As the pod turned toward the crevice, they heard the roar of the machine again. Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut and focused on her breathing. She tried not to pay attention to Rourke's booming voice or the pages of Milo's journal flipping violently. Everything went dark and Eleanor wasn't sure if she was alive or not.


	10. Chapter 10

"Seven hours ago, we started this expedition with 200 of the finest men and women I've ever known. We're all that's left."

Rourke paced back and forth along the beach in front of the few that survived the ordeal. Eleanor scanned the faces and recognized some, but many were large men wearing gas masks. Their anonymity almost scared her more than the fact that so many didn't make it out alive.

"From here on in, everyone pulls double duty. Everyone drives, everyone works," Rourke continued. He stopped in front of Milo and shook his head. "Looks like all our chances for survival rest with you, Mr. Thatch. You and that little book."

With a nod, Rourke dismissed everyone. Each person moved quickly to their appointed station, leaving only Milo and Eleanor motionless on the beach. Eleanor rushed over to Milo and grabbed his arm.

"What are we supposed to do?" she whispered. "I don't know how to do…anything!"

"Hey, well neither do I!" he hissed back. "We have to-"

He fell silent as Helga approached. She squinted at them and raised her finger to her chin.

"I would swear that you were here on the beach when the captain gave orders," she mused. "And your papers didn't indicate any auditory issues. Am I wrong?"

"No, ma'am!" Eleanor and Milo chimed in unison.

"Then get your butts to work!" she snarled. She thrust her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the vehicles. Most of the other crew members had already loaded their gear.

Eleanor looked to Milo frantically, but he was already on the move.

"I don't know how to drive," she protested.

"Follow my lead!" replied Milo, looking toward Helga warily.

Milo stopped at a gray truck with no doors. Holding his hand out like a butler, he helped Eleanor up into the passenger seat before running over to the drivers side. Now that they were actually in a vehicle, Eleanor felt better, but she knew they weren't quite in the clear. She looked over her shoulder and spotted Rourke. He was walking along the line of trucks, stopping briefly to speak with each driver.

"This isn't going to work," Eleanor said. "I'm technically breaking orders_._"

"Trust me! We'll be fine."

Rourke popped his head in the opening at the passenger side. He ignored Eleanor completely to question Milo.

"Are you sure you're checked out on this class of vehicle?"

"Uh…" Milo replied sheepishly. Eleanor remembered that Milo didn't drive at all. They had walked to the National Zoo after work one afternoon because neither of them had a car. It had been such a beautiful afternoon, too. She hardly knew Milo back then…her mind was quickly pulled back to the present as Rourke slapped a firm hand against the frame of the vehicle.

"Can you drive a truck?" Rourke snapped.

"Of course I can drive a truck!" Milo shrugged confidently. "I mean sure."

He grabbed the steering wheel and rotated it a few times while motioning to the dashboard.

"You got your steering, your gas, your break, and, of course, this metal…uh, looking…thing?" Milo grabbed at a lever, unsure what to do with it. He looked up at Eleanor, but she knew nothing about driving. "Ok, so it was a bumper car at Coney Island, but it's the same basic principle!"

Rourke smiled grimly and started to walk away.

"Sure, Thatch. Don't go anywhere."

As soon as Rourke was out of sight, Eleanor slumped down in the seat.

"That was close, Milo."

"I hate to say it, but I don't think they'll be paying us much attention on this leg of the trip," Milo assured her. "If we keep our heads down and avoid Ms. Sinclair, I think we'll be fine."

Eleanor looked away and nodded. Just that morning, she had hugged her grandfather goodbye and set off on her grand adventure. How had things gone so terribly wrong? Now she was at the mercy of the crew and seemed to be of no use to anyone.

Vinny, the Italian man from the bridge, waved at Milo from the front of the truck.

"Put it in neutral," he called. "We're gonna tow you."

"Great…" Milo grumbled. "I don't even know how to do that!"

Eleanor examined the levers and pushed one.

"Thanks!" Vinny called. He returned to his truck and started it. Milo and Eleanor were dragged along in their much smaller truck. He beamed at her and gently slugged her arm.

Eleanor smiled weakly back and turned once again to look out the door opening. Maybe she wasn't complete useless after all.


	11. Chapter 11

The line of vehicles, led by a huge drill, groaned to a stop a few hours later. Ahead, the road split into two tunnels that were built through a huge bronze structure. Bronze structures were clear traces of civilization, which brightened Milo's mood considerably. Rourke walked back to Milo and Eleanor's truck.

"Here is your chance to make yourself useful," he boomed. Milo laughed weakly and climbed out of the truck. Eleanor reached for her door, but Milo shook his head.

"I can do it," he assured her.

"Of course!" she replied. She knew that he didn't need her help - it was just that she didn't want to sit in the vehicle alone. Crew members had been sneering at her and Milo all morning when they saw them in the towed truck. Now that Milo had a job to do, all of the unwanted attention would be on her.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Eleanor gasped and looked up. Sylvia peaked through the window and smiled. Eleanor unlocked the door and Sylvia slid onto the bench seat. She tipped her head back and sighed.

"I _had_ to get away from Ramirez," she laughed. "You know how she is."

In truth, Eleanor didn't really know how she was. She laughed and nodded anyway.

"Where's the boy?" Sylvia asked, suddenly realizing that Eleanor was alone. "Weren't you two together?"

Eleanor tipped her head toward the windshield. "He's figuring out which way to go. You know, making himself useful." She threw in the last bit to see how Sylvia felt about freeloaders. She didn't take the bait.

"If he's using the journal, I'd better get up there," Sylva said. "Four eyes are better than two when it comes to Atlantian."

As quickly as she'd arrived, Sylvia was gone. Eleanor leaned out the door to watch the exchange. Milo had already decided on the left path when Sylvia reached the book. Eleanor couldn't hear their conversation, but she seemed to want to have a look before they moved. Milo handed it to her and she pulled it close to her face. Milo's word was good enough for Rourke, however, and the trucks were moving not long after.

Milo jogged back to the truck and climbed in. It wasn't a long distance, but he was panting and reached for Eleanor's canteen. She handed it over and he took a long drink.

"Did you see that structure? We must be close!" he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Are you sure it's Atlantian?" she asked.

"Well…no," Milo said. He looked as though he hadn't considered the possibility of other civilizations in the caves. "It's something though, right?"

Before Eleanor could answer, a loud series of clicks echoed though the cave. It was unlike anything she'd ever heard before. Then again, today had been a day of firsts. Milo craned his neck out the window. His eyes narrowed as he searched for the source of the sound. Suddenly, he lurched back and instinctively thrust his heel at the break pedal. Whatever was out there had given him quite a jolt. Eleanor couldn't see anything, so she pulled herself into a half stand, half sit out the window. It wasn't very ladylike, but there was a time for everything.

Ahead, the drill had stopped in front of the entrance to the left cave. A giant bug-like creature had emerged from the cave and now towered over the line of cars. It wasn't attacking, but no one wanted to wait around and give it the chance. The smaller vehicles were able to turn around and drive off, but the drill was too wide. It backed up, painfully slow, until it was back to the fork. The bug retreated into the darkness and Milo was summoned back up to the front of the vehicle line.

"I don't get it," Milo muttered as he closed the truck door. "I'm sure I read the map correctly."

Apparently, though, he hadn't. Sylvia approached Milo, still holding the journal. She pointed at something handed it back to him. He scrunched up his face and examined the page. His face shifted from confused to sheepish and he turned the book upside down. Rourke didn't look happy when Milo had to explain that he'd misread the journal. Judging from the groans from the other drivers, Eleanor guessed that they weren't happy either.

Milo once again returned to the truck and slumped down in the seat. Eleanor tried not to look at him.

"Please…don't say anything," he pleaded. Eleanor reached over and patted his hand, but said nothing. Not even when Audrey stormed up and kicked the door.


End file.
